


Moribund

by lostshakerofsalt



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Concussions, Hurt Stiles, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Stiles, M/M, Werewolf Pain-Relief Magic, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-04-21 08:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14281407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostshakerofsalt/pseuds/lostshakerofsalt
Summary: His eyes shone brightly, angry. They were alone in the locker room. The rest of the team had already left, heading out to get burgers on a Friday night. Stiles knew he was trapped.orStiles was just trying to put his jersey back in his locker. He never planned on getting thrown against a wall.





	1. Attacked

**Author's Note:**

> Moribund - being close to death (thanks AP Lang)  
> First Teen Wolf piece that I'm posting on here. I was in desperate need of Sterek angst and hurt/comfort. I wasn't really sure how to end it so I may rewrite it later. For now, this is the ending it gets. Constructive criticism and other comments are much appreciated. Thanks! Also let me know in the comments if you think I should end it like it is here or if you would like another chapter involving more of Stiles' recovery and him telling the Sheriff what happened.

One moment Stiles was slipping off his jersey to throw in his locker and the next the locker door was slammed shut and his face was pressed hard against the cold surface. He let out a gasp of surprise. Harsh hands gripped his biceps with bruising force. He squirmed frantically before stiffening at the sound of a low growl at his ear. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, a shudder running down his spine. His mind was panicking, being pressed against the locker gave him no view of who was pressed against him.

Hard planes of muscle were pressed against his back. The hands kept their grip on his arms but turned him around roughly. His small amount of relief was slammed back against the lockers. The impact left him breathless.

“Stiles.” A poisonous voice growled and Stiles prickled.

“Jackson!” he gasped in surprise and fear.

Why did Jackson have him against the lockers? What did he do to piss him off this time? He hadn’t meant to make him angry. Dazed and confused he could only stare wide eyed at the angry werewolf in front of him.

His eyes shone brightly, angry. They were alone in the locker room. The rest of the team had already left, heading out to get burgers on a Friday night. Stiles knew he was trapped. He just had to figure out what the boy wanted which would be difficult considering Jackson hadn’t said much. 

Gathering himself he rolled his shoulders back and lifted his head to glare at Jackson.

“What do you want? I was really ready to go eat a burger before you so rudely inter-”

Jackson snarled and threw Stiles over the bench and against the other row of lockers. A loud crash echoed in the air. The air knocked from his body once again, Stiles spluttered on the ground. His head had made contact with the metal, his vision swimming. Lifting his head from the ground as he pushed up on all fours, he could see Jackson looming above.

Stiles’ lanky limbs grappled for purchase against the concrete floor. He desperately tried to escape but to no avail. Jackson was on him in a second, lifting him up by the back of his shirt. Stiles yelped as he was dragged upward and off the ground. 

Blood was rushing past his ears, heartbeat frantic. How could he escape. What the hell was Jackson doing? Stiles weakly hit against Jackson but gained no purchase. He braced himself as he was pushed backward. His back made painful contact with the shower wall.

“Jackson! What- what is going on man? Listen, if I offended you or did something wrong, I’m really sorry. I tend to have that effect on p-”

He received a punch to the stomach, effectively shutting him up. A groan of pain tumbled from his throat.

“Stupid human. You think you’re so powerful just because you’re Scott’s friend? Do you? The Nogistsune chose you because you were weak. Submissive.” The sound emanating from Jackson was low and dangerous.

Stiles flinched at the biting words. His body ached. There was no escape for him. Jackson was dangerous, he knew he couldn’t risk being torn apart so he kept his mouth shut. Where was Scott when he needed him? Or even Derek? Derek could protect him, keep him safe. Derek was comforting, always looming somewhere. He never thought he would wish for Derek to be looming nearby until now.

He was snapped back to attention when a fist made contact with the shower wall next to his head. Tiles cracked violently, a crater left in place of his fist.

“Stiles, submissive Stiles. Willing to do whatever Scott asks, isn’t that true? You would do anything for our pack wouldn’t you? Anything at all?” he hissed, eyes flashing murderously.

Stiles swallowed, desperately trying to calm his racing heart.

Jackson leaned closer, touching his nose to Stiles’ neck and sniffing deeply. Stiles shuddered as Jackson moaned loudly. The hands clasped around his shoulders tightened, claws digging painfully into tender flesh. Stiles craned his head away in disgust, wincing in pain.

He made a final decision, knowing full well that he had no other option. There was no way he could take Jackson by himself. He called for help, yelling at the top of his lungs. He could only hope that someone, anyone, would hear his plea.

“Hey! Help! Anybody help me plea-”

Jackson snarled before gripping Stiles’ hair tightly. Stiles had only a second to think before his head was being slammed back into the hard tile. A sickening crack echoed off the locker room walls. Dots of light spotted his vision, everything blurring. He groaned in pain and exhaled shakily.

“Try something like that again and I’ll kill you.” The werewolf growled.

Stiles let out a pitiful whimper, closing his eyes tightly and willing away the terrible ache spreading from the back of his skull. His mind swirled with confusion as he clawed for any sort of plan. Nothing came to mind, not much making sense. His thoughts were jumbled. Definitely a concussion. Great. Exactly what he wanted on a Friday night. To be trapped in a locker room with a deadly werewolf that just gave him a lovely concussion.

He continued wondering how to get himself out of this mess when lips pressed hard against his collar bone. Stiles jerked, attention back on Jackson who was now kissing up his neck. Stiles’ was slow in getting his body to work. Jackson’s hands were running over his muscled chest and slipping lower when Stiles’ motor function came back to him.

He squirmed, pulling his arms up between their bodies. Using whatever strength he had left, he shoved Jackson away from him. The werewolf was caught off guard for a second, allowing Stiles to push him away and bolting. He wobbled on unsteady legs before rushing down the line of lockers.

He was almost to the door when Jackson was back at him. He let out a strangled yell as Jackson hit his back full force. Stiles was knocked against the wall, Jackson at his back. Claws dug into his hips painfully as a hand fisted his tussled dark locks painfully. 

“Stop struggling. Nobody’s coming for you Stiles. Nobody cares about you Stiles. Now you’re going to be my little bitch, and nobody is going to save you.”

Stiles whimpered, a violent shudder running down his spine.

Jackson’s hands circled his hips, moving to his fly. Stiles squirmed as much as he could but couldn’t do much with the heavy weight of Jackson against his whole body. Stiles’ mind was racing, the panic and adrenaline overtaking his previous state of wooziness.

“Please, stop. Jackson. You don’t know what you’re doing man.” Stiles choked on his words, panic rising, constricting his chest. 

His pants were being pushed down. He wasn’t going to escape unscathed. After the Nogitsune, it seemed like nothing could get worse than that. He felt like nothing could ever use his body like the Nogitsune had. Nothing could come between him and his friends again. Wrong. He was so wrong. This was that same aching feeling of losing control. Not knowing what was real and what wasn’t. Suddenly he desperately hoped this was all some twisted nightmare.

His pants slid down his shaking legs. Tears were falling freely down his face. 

A loud crash pulled him out of his reverie. Jackson growled low in his throat. Not seconds later the door was thrown off its hinges. With Jackson’s weight off of his body, Stiles slumped against the wall and slid down into a heap on the floor.

There in the doorway was the one and only Derek Hale. His loud roar reverberated through the room, eyes flashing red. Jackson snarled. Derek launched himself at the beta, successfully knocking him to the ground. After some fight, a whimper escaped Jackson and then silence followed.

Sharp features and worried emerald eyes were in front of Stiles’ face before he could react. His tear filled amber eyes looked at him with such relief. Derek had a pained expression on his face.

“Stiles…”

The boy in front of him collapsed into his arms, sobbing. Derek quickly pulled the boy tight against his chest. Smelling the fear, pain, and overwhelming relief on the teen. He ran his fingers through the boy’s hair before feeling something wet and sticky. Stiles flinched as a metallic smell filled his nose. Derek pulled his hand back quickly. Pulling Stiles away from his chest, he looked for more injuries. Derek could see that his pants had been pulled down. His wolf howled in pain. Stiles was shaking and hyperventilating as he sat back and looked down at himself.

“H-hey, let me help you.” Derek’s voice broke.

Stiles just looked at him with wide frantic eyes. 

Derek made quick work of pulling Stiles’ pants up his legs and then pulled the broken boy to his chest once more. He sat down and pulled him into his lap. His strong arms wrapped around the skinny teenager, one hand holding the boys head to his chest, being mindful of his wound. Stiles was still crying, hiccupping loudly.

“I’m here now. It’s okay Stiles. Nobody can touch you now. I’m not leaving.” Derek whispered against his hair.

Stiles had his hand gripped tightly in the soft material of Derek’s shirt. He calmed down enough to pull in deep breaths. His heart rate slowed down though still fast. He pulled back to look at Derek with large glassy eyes.

Derek’s heart clenched.

“Hey” Stiles choked out. 

“Let’s get you out of here. I’ll call Scott and your dad.” Derek told him softly.

“No! Not my dad, please” Stiles cried out worriedly.

Derek started to protest “Please Derek. He worries enough. He can’t know about this.” He pleaded.

“For now, but he’ll find out eventually, you know that.”

“Let me deal with that later.” Stiles sighed.

Derek nodded, lips tight. He pulled his cellphone out and dialed Scott’s number. After a few rings he picked up.

“Derek? Why are you calling me?”

“Come to the school now. I’m in the locker room with Stiles.” 

“Stiles? Why are you-”

“Just come here. Now.” 

Scott agreed and hung up quickly.

Derek stood up, reaching a hand down to help Stiles up. Stiles slipped his cold hand into Derek’s and allowed himself to be pulled up, using the wall for leverage. Stiles groaned and his legs buckled. Derek caught him before he hit the ground. 

“Fuck.” Stiles cursed, grappling for purchase on Derek’s biceps. 

“How about you just sit down for now, alright?” Derek slowly lowered Stiles.

Stiles looked down at himself, noticing his pants were still undone. He slowly rezipped and buttoned his pants with shaky hands. Derek watched painfully from above. He lowered to a crouch in front of Stiles.

“Where does it hurt?” He asked the shaken boy.

Stiles looked up in surprise.

“Everywhere” he sighed heavily, wincing.

“Wh-what happened?” he asked cautiously.

“Well he threw me against the wall a few times, punched me in the stomach, and uh… you know.” Stile trailed off, his voice tight. 

Derek gritted his teeth, glancing at Jackson knocked out on the floor a few feet away.

“Let me help, with your head at least.” Derek said, hand moving to Stiles’ hair tentatively.

Stiles watched with curious eyes as Derek’s hand slid closer. Derek’s fingers slid easily through the soft locks, carefully finding the wound at the back of his head. Stiles sighed in relief as Derek’s veins turned black, the pain being sucked right out of his body. Derek took a sharp breath.

“Thank you” came the quiet breathy voice of Stiles.

“You don’t need to thank me.”

A few minutes later, another concerned werewolf stood in the doorway. Scott stumbled through eyes widening at the sight in front of him. Stiles grimaced in an attempted smile at his best friend. Derek hastily let go of Stiles to stand up. Scott’s gaze focused in on Jackson crumpled against the lockers a few feet away. Stiles shuddered when he followed Scott’s gaze.

“Someone please tell me what the hell happened here.” Scott’s voice was tight.

“Well I was just trying to get changed and head home after coach kept me later than normal. I didn’t realize anyone was still here. I was putting my clothes away when Jackson decided to make an appearance.” He paused, glancing worriedly at the sleeping werewolf. Scott nodded encouragingly at his friend. “He… he threw me against the lockers… multiple times. Of course, I mouthed off which earned me a few hits to the stomach, not my best idea. I’m pretty sure I have a raging concussion thanks to Jackson deciding that smashing my skull against the shower wall was a good idea.” Stiles trailed off, Derek understanding that he didn’t want to continue speaking. 

Scott glanced at his friend in disbelief and then back at the shower wall. He was putting two and two together, eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“Then how did you end up over here Stiles?” he questioned.

Stiles grimaced.

“Stiles? What more did he do to you?” Scott growled.

Stiles kept his eyes on the floor, hugging his knees close to his body.

“H-he… I tried to escape Scotty. I did, I really did. He caught me before I could escape. I tried to fight him, but-but he was too strong. He pulled my pants down, would have… would have done more if Derek hadn’t found me.” Stiles let a few tears fall. He looked up at Scott with a pained expression.

Scott was to Stiles in a few seconds. He enveloped the pale boy in a hug, careful not to aggravate any injuries. Stiles was sobbing into his best friend’s shoulders.

“I’m so sorry Stiles. I should have waited for you. I should have been here to help. I should have stopped him. Oh god I’m so sorry.” Scott cried into Stiles’ shoulder.

When the two boys pulled away, Derek stepped towards them.

“Derek what are we going to do with Jackson?” Scott questioned.

“I’m calling Chris.” Derek said gruffly, pulling out his cellphone quickly.

Derek made a quick phone call to Chris and within a few minutes he was walking through the door, eyes scanning the situation in front of him.

“We’ll talk more about this later but he almost raped and killed Stiles.” He spoke softly to Chris who simply nodded.

Chris glanced at the two boys, nodding slightly before moving to Jackson. He injected him with a sedative before picking him up and carrying him out.

Derek could smell the fear and anxiety wafting off of Stiles.

“Okay, let’s get you out of here Stiles. We’ll just go to my loft so we can watch over you, make sure you recover.” Derek spoke turning to the two teenagers. Stiles nodded warily.

“Okay Scott you get that side and I’ll take this side.” Derek advised, crouching down to Stiles to wrap his arm around his back.

Together the two boys got Stiles standing, barely. His legs were wobbling violently. 

“Just give me a second here guys. Little dizzy.” Stiles breathed shakily.

Derek took some of Stiles’ pain which helped steady the boy.

“You good?” Scott asked.

“Yeah, I think so." 

Together the three of them walked to the parking lot, albeit slowly, but they made it. The two helped Stiles into the front of Derek’s Camaro.

“I’ll meet you at the loft.” Scott said before heading off to his motor bike.

Derek got in the car and sped off. Quick glances at Stiles proved him to be slightly more relaxed than earlier but still in pain.

When they reached the loft, Derek helped Stiles out of the car and then practically dragged him up to the loft. He led Stiles to his own bedroom without a second thought once inside the loft. The younger boy slumped down on the bed as soon as he could.

Derek rifled through his drawers, finding spare clothes for the lithe boy on his bed. He returned to Stiles, handing over the soft clothing. Stiles nodded in thanks before trying to stand up. Derek’s hand on his chest made him stare dumbly up at the werewolf.

“I’ll leave the room, you shouldn’t be moving too much, it won’t help you heal any faster.” Derek gently pushed him back down and left quickly.

A soft mumble came a few minutes later and Derek came back in. His heart warmed at the sight of Stiles wearing his clothes, baggy on his smaller frame. The boy was curled up on his bed, head on Derek’s pillow.

“Do you want anything? I can get you some water or food?” Derek asked.

Stiles just shook his head.

“Will… will you just stay here with me?” Stiles asked, unsure of himself.

Derek’s eyes widened a fraction. 

“Yeah, of course.” His voice was much too breathy to his liking.

Derek crawled slowly onto his bed and up to where Stiles was laying. He lifted the covers back for the both of them to climb under. Stiles hummed happily. Derek kept his space but after a few minutes, the other boy nuzzled his way closer.

Stiles’ eyes snapped open quickly. “Is this okay?” he asked, worry permeating his normal sweet scent.

“Of course, Stiles. Come here.” Derek reached out and tugged Stiles to his chest, letting the boy’s head rest against his chest. Their legs tangled together making Derek’s heart rate spike. Stiles tensed before completely melting in his arms. Both were content to just hold each other.

They fell into a deep slumber, each comforted by the other’s presence. When Scott arrived, seeing the two wrapped up in each other, he set a timer to wake Stiles up every four hours and crashed on the couch.

Stiles wasn’t okay but he could be with the help of his best friends and a certain sourwolf. 


	2. Patched Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek patches Stiles up and takes him to see his dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the encouragement of two lovely commenters, I decided to continue writing this. You could read this as a finished work but I want to continue it. I'm not sure how many more chapters I will write but I definitely need to resolve the issue with Jackson and what happens to him. Thanks for reading. Leave suggestions and comments, I always reply!

The dull ache in his head brought Stiles out of his sleep. His eyes cracked open before shutting them quickly at the onslaught of light. Groaning, he tried to roll over but found himself unable. Steadying his breathing for a minute, he reopened his eyes to see a certain sourwolf laying right next to him. More like right under him if Stiles was being honest.

The throbbing in his skull reminded him of the previous night’s events. Memories flashed through his mind quickly, making him tense and shudder. His skin felt hot. His body aching all over. His throat was closing, breathing off kilter.

Derek cracked an eye open before he awoke fully and sat up in a rush. He let go of the younger boy, giving him some space. He found Stiles’ eyes flickering up to his frantically, his whole body shaking.

“Stiles? Hey, stay with me. Do you know where you are?” Derek asked, voice gruff from sleep.

The teen curled in on himself, tears in his eyes. Derek’s heart clenched painfully at the sight. He knew the boy was having a panic attack but wasn’t quite sure how to help him. He didn’t want to make the boy uncomfortable.

“Hey, Stiles? I need you to breathe with me. Can you do that? I’ll breathe with you. Place your hand here.” Derek grasped Stiles’ clammy hand and placed it against his hard chest, letting Stiles feel his steady heartbeat.

“D-Derek.” Stiles rasped out, looking up at the werewolf once again.

“Breathe, Stiles, breathe. You’re safe here. I promise.” Derek spoke in a steady tone.

Slowly, Stiles was able to steady his breathing and calm down. His teary amber eyes never left the stark emerald ones staring back at him.

“Sorry…” he whispered with a heavy sigh.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for Stiles. Come here.” Derek slid back down and pulled Stiles against his chest without hesitation.

Derek ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair but stopped when Stiles flinched.

“Sorry, I forgot. Let me take some pain.”

“No, Derek you don’t n-”

Stiles’ breath hitched in his throat as the ache in his skull lessened considerably. Derek held his breath and took the pain in stride. He let go after a few minutes and Stiles sighed in relief.

Derek suddenly let go and was standing next to the bed in seconds. Stiles looked up dazedly, eyes settling on the bristling man before tracking his eyes to the doorway.

A flush broke out across the teen’s cheeks as Scott raised his eyebrow from across the room. The other werewolf stepped into the room, grinning lightly.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t walk in on that. So, you kids want breakfast? Maybe some Advil?” He nodded towards Stiles who was sitting up now, rubbing his face.

“I need a shower.” Stiles groaned, sliding out of bed.

The other two kept worried eyes on his form as he stood unsteadily. He tried to stifle a groan of pain and it came out in a loud huff.

Derek caught a glance at some deep gashes in Stiles’ shoulder blades, no doubt from Jackson’s claws. He growled lowly, feeling overwhelmingly protective of the injured teen. Luckily Stiles didn’t hear the growl. He hobbled over to the werewolves, giving them a pinched smile before leading them out of Derek’s room. They walked to the kitchen, Stiles sitting down at the kitchen bar as Derek grabbed some Advil from the cupboard while Scott plated pancakes and bacon for the three of them.

Stiles smiled brightly at his best friend when food was placed in front of him. He immediately started eating and looked up at Derek gratefully when an Advil was placed in front of him.

The other two dug into their food as well, happy to see Stiles chirpy again.

When food was finished and the Advil was kicking in, Derek and Scott shared a knowing look.

“Stiles, we need to talk about your plan. What you’re going to tell your dad.” Scott started.

Stiles gulped audibly, the smell of anxiety in the room spiking.

“Fuck. What do I even tell him? Hey dad, yeah Jackson almost raped and killed me last night. How was your Friday night?” He let a bitter laugh stumble from his throat, eyes going cold.

“Well, he’ll ask questions when he sees your face.” Scott pointed out.

“Shit, I must look like hell. I feel like hell, that’s for sure.” He winced.

“Stiles, he’ll worry if he thinks you’re lying to him.” Derek adds.

“Yeah, I agree. Stiles you know he loves you and he wants to make sure you’re okay. He can’t help you unless he knows what’s going on.

“Yeah… you’re right. I know.” Stiles looked suddenly exhausted.

Derek cleared the plates and put them in the sink to clean later.

“Chris called me earlier. I’m meeting him in half an hour. We need to decide what we’re going to do with Jackson,” Stiles flinched “he can’t go to prison. He would break out or kill everyone inside.” Scott announced as he shrugged on his jacket.

“Call me when you can.” Derek replied and Stiles nodded to Scott as he turned and headed for the door.

Derek and Stiles were finally alone again. Derek eyed him quizzically for a moment, taking in the bruising on the right side of his face and his disheveled hair.

“Hey, how about you take a shower and when you’re done, you let me patch you up.” Derek told him.

Stiles nodded before gingerly climbing down from the chair and following Derek to his bathroom. With the shower started, Derek slipped out and left Stiles to wash up.

When Stiles emerged in a new change of clothes Derek had left him, Derek was sitting on his bed with the first aid kit.

“Feeling better?”

“Much better.”

“Can I see?” Derek asked tentatively.

Stiles’ whole body was tense as he reached for the hem of his shirt. He started to lift but clenched his teeth at the sting of the claw marks. He gazed at Derek. Stiles didn’t need to say it out loud. Derek stood quietly and walked to Stiles. A small smile graced his features as he took the fabric in his hand and lifted.

The normally pale skin was mottled with dark bruises of different shades. Derek sucked in a breath. His eyes raked over the injured skin, catching on the bruising around puncture wounds on the boy’s hips. The wolf within Derek cried out at the sight. He knew what those marks meant, knew that Stiles had narrowly escaped being raped. Stiles had his head ducked to avoid Derek’s eyes.

“Fuck Stiles.” Derek’s voice was tight.

Derek could feel the pain radiating off of the younger boy, could smell the pain and tension in the air around Stiles. The amber eyes he had grown so fond of flickered up to meet his own. Derek stretched his hand out, shifting closer.

“Can I?” He asked, looking into Stiles’ eyes for permission. He knew the boy was in pain but in no way wanted him to be any more uncomfortable than he already was.

“Yeah, please.” Stiles exhaled.

Derek’s fingertips touched the skin on Stiles’ abdomen. He could feel defined muscle tensing against him. He let his hand flatten against the damaged skin, fingers splayed out. The skin was warm from the hot spray of the shower.

Derek kept his eyes on Stiles’ as he took some of the pain and discomfort away. The teen’s eyes softened considerably, pink lips parted in relief. Derek’s other hand found the boy’s side and wrapped around to his back to hold him steady. Stiles found his hands fisted in Derek’s shirt, sagging from the warm feeling coursing through his body. Derek’s heart sped up, adrenaline pumping at the influx of pain. He gritted his teeth. His hand fell away a moment later, not wanting to push too far.

He caught Stiles as he swayed on his feet, dizzy.

“Thank you… god that’s so much better.” Stiles’ voice was breathy as Derek led him to the soft bed. “Wolfy pain-pulling powers are so much better than Advil, let me tell you.”

Derek was happy to take the pain if Stiles could feel even an ounce better. Stiles sat down and immediately fell back against the bed. His abdominal muscles taut. Derek wanted to lay down next to him and pull him to his chest, hold him and never let go. He wanted to press kisses up and down the bruised skin. He shook his head, trying desperately to rid his mind of the thoughts. Why was he even thinking that? Not the time, Derek, not the time. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about their relationship at all, having become very close in the past few months. They were something more than friends but they definitely weren’t dating. Derek didn’t know what to call it.

Stiles sat up as Derek came closer.

“Shit, are you okay Derek? I’m feeling a million times better which means you must have taken a lot of that pain.” Stiles watched him carefully.

Derek waved him off. “Stiles I’m fine. I heal about a million times faster than you.” He shot back teasingly.

Stiles sat up and Derek took out some bandages. He got to work quickly. Stiles hissed out a breath when Derek first made contact with the puncture wounds in his shoulder. Derek gave him an apologetic look and quickly taped bandages to the wounds. When he was done with the ones on Stiles’ shoulders, he crouched down to get level with Stiles’ hips. There were matching marks on the front of his hips and Derek knew he would find four other marks on the back of each hip.

Callused fingers brushed against smooth skin making both boys shiver. Warmth bloomed across Stiles’ face. Stiles turned and leaned forward so Derek could bandage the marks on the back of his hips.

When Stiles was completely bandaged, Derek grabbed the shirt and helped redress the boy. The shirt got stuck around his head making both of them chuckle. Their laughter eased the tension in the room. Derek flopped face-first into the bed.

“Me too buddy, me too. I feel like I could sleep for a week.” Stiles fell back again.

“As much as I would love to take a nap,” _with you_ Derek thought “you need to go home, see your dad.”

He watched in fascination as the boy’s eyelids fluttered. Stiles agreed and they left the loft.

The ride there was quiet, comfortably so. It was uncharacteristic of Stiles to be so quiet, normally babbling about anything and everything. He pulled the Camaro up into the Stilinskis’ driveway.

Stiles turned to open the door but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. They locked eyes and then Stiles slid his arms around Derek’s broad shoulders, head coming to rest in the crook of his neck. Derek reveled in the feel of Stiles wrapped up in his arms. They stayed for a moment before Derek reluctantly let go. Stiles thanked him one last time before exiting the car.

Emerald green eyes watched the lanky teenager walk with barely concealed anxiety up to his front door. The Camaro pulled out and drove away.

“Dad? I’m home!” Stiles called out as he opened the front door.

The sheriff walked out from the kitchen with a stern look that quickly crumbled as he took in the state of his son. His father was in front of him before Stiles could blink.

“Jesus Stiles, what happened? Who did this? Why did Scott and Derek let you get hurt? I swear to god, I’m-”

“Dad… it wasn’t their fault. I’m not sure if I would be alive if Derek hadn’t found me.”

The sheriff looked at him with concern and pain in his blue eyes. Stiles sighed and walked into the living room. He sat down on the couch as his father sat next to him.

“Son, I need you to tell me exactly what happened last night.” Noah was growing more and more concerned by the minute.

Stiles took a deep breath, his hands shaking.

Stiles carefully explained what happened in the locker room the previous night, not leaving out any details. His dad listened attentively, placing a hand on his son’s back and rubbing soothing circles. When Stiles broke down, Noah was quick to pull his son into his arms. He rocked his boy and let him sob against his shirt, soaking through it with tears. Tears fell silently down his own cheeks. As a father, it was his job to protect Stiles, and he hadn’t even done that. He had been too busy at the station.

After a while, Stiles had finally calmed down and he pulled away from his dad. Noah grabbed his son by the biceps and looked into his eyes.

“I’m here for you Stiles. I’m so sorry. I wish I could have protected you. That’s my job. I’m just glad that Derek showed up when he did. Stiles, where is Jackson now? I’m gonna arrest that son of a bi-”

“Dad, Chris took him. Scott went to talk to Chris this morning. He can’t go to jail, he would escape or kill everyone inside.” Stiles calmed his dad.

“Okay, okay. I guess I need to talk to Chris. For now, you should rest. Let me check your head. You said Derek patched you up but I just want to make sure.”

His dad checked the bump on his head and then checked his pupils.

“Definitely concussed. I’ll wake you up every four hours. You go lay down kiddo. I’m not leaving.” He pulled Stiles in for a hug before letting him trudge upstairs to his warm bed.

Stiles found his mind drifting to Derek as his eyelids drooped closed, he pulled the covers tighter around him and drifted to sleep. He could think about what to do with Jackson later. For now, he would sleep the horrors of the previous night away.


	3. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A decision about Jackson is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After so long, I'm finally here with a third chapter! I plan to write one more chapter to complete this little fic. I know I could have made a much longer and developed story but for now it's just a short one. I hope you enjoy. If there is anything you might like to see in the last chapter, leave a comment and I might incorporate it! Thanks for reading!

Scott could hear growling and snarling long before he walked through the door of the abandoned warehouse. Chris Argent stood in front of the chained werewolf. Jackson was strung up on an electric fence, the smell of wolfsbane permeating the dank air. Scott’s eyes flashed red on their own accord, a low growl emanating from his chest. Chris didn’t turn even as Jackson’s thrashing grew more incessant.

“You want this up higher? Huh?” Chris spoke eerily calm as he held up the dial controlling the electricity running through the fence, gesturing at the feral wolf in front of him.

Scott walked until he stood right next to Chris, the two of them staring straight ahead.

“So, what are we doing with him?” Scott spoke aloud.

Chris huffed. “Well, as much as I want to kill him, it’s more of Stiles’ decision. There are such things as werewolf prisons, monitored by other hunters. Those are for smaller crimes however. I think we need Stiles to decide what he wants.”

Scott nodded, tight lipped. He watched the creature writhe on the chain-link fence in front of him. The golden eyes flashing, fangs dropped. Scott wanted to rip his throat out and leave him to die on the cement floor of this sordid building. He knew Chris was right, they needed Stiles to make the decision. It was only fair to give him the closure he needed, the power he had been stripped of.

After making a call to Derek, Scott went home and Chris stayed at the warehouse until further notice. The sheriff called to check in and agreed with their plan for Jackson. 

 

* * *

 

 Stiles woke up the next morning, forgetting about Jackson for a blissful few seconds. The weight came crushing back in, leaving Stiles breathless in its wake. When he finally mustered up the courage, Stiles hobbled downstairs, wrapped in a fuzzy Star Wars blanket. His dad was waiting in the kitchen with coffee and donuts. Normally, Stiles would make a joke about being a stereotypical police officer but the pounding in his head was more prominent in his mind.

After a fitful night filled with images of a snarling wolf Stiles desperately needed sugar and caffeine. Especially if he was going to face Jackson today. The thought made the hair on his arms bristle and his grip on the fuzzy blanket-of-protection tightened. His head was pounding, blood pumping in his ears. The wound on the back of his head throbbed with every clink of cutlery in the kitchen. A painful reminder every second of the past nightmarish day.

He plopped onto a bar stool and shoved a chocolate glazed donut into his mouth. The sugary frosting dissolved on his tongue, reminding him of the good in this world. He let a moan of appreciation escape his throat. His dad hid a smile behind his mug with “#1 Sheriff” printed on the side.

After allowing Stiles a few minutes of reprieve and delicious goodness, his dad cleared his throat. Stiles winced and looked up at his dad’s pinched features. The wrinkles, clearly there due to the amount of stress and worry Stiles causes, were more prominent.

“Son, Chris is keeping Jackson in a warehouse just outside of town. There are two options here. Either Chris kills him, end of story or he goes to werewolf prison god knows where.” His dad spoke matter of factly.

Stiles sighed and ran his fingers down his face. “Let me guess, it’s up to me to decide.”

His dad pursed his lips and nodded. “You don’t have to decide right n-”

“Take me there. To the warehouse.” Stiles interrupted.

“Stiles, I don’t th- are you sure?” his dad stuttered worriedly.

“Yeah. I think seeing him would help me figure out what needs to be done.” Stiles said coldly.

The sheriff looked conflicted but ultimately agreed.

 

* * *

 

 They pulled up to the decrepit warehouse in his dad’s police cruiser. Stiles could see the vehicles belonging to his friends and unlikely ally. He mentally prepared himself to face the monster within. Tremors started in his hands and Stiles shoved them in his pockets. Even without werewolf hearing, the sounds coming from within the building made the hair on the back of their necks stand on end.

All eyes turned to Stiles as he stepped through the door into the dusty light. Derek made an aborted step forward, stopping himself from going to the boy. Once Jackson took sight of him, the chain rattled with a newfound strength and Chris swiftly turned the dial higher. As Stiles approached them, his eyes were wide. The scent of terror was easily detected by the wolves. Dark bruises lined his under eyes and his entire body was tense.

Flashes of claws and pain painted the inside of Stiles’ eyes with blood. The nightmare continued as he reopened his eyes to cast his gaze on the claws and fangs shining in front of him. The same malicious look of hunger grazed the wolf’s face. Stiles curled his fingers against his fists allowing crescents to be dented into the fragile skin there. The sharp tang of copper filled the air around the boy, making Derek wince.

“Tell me… tell me about this werewolf prison.” Stiles let out a shaky breath as he turned all his attention to Chris.

“Well, it has the highest security known to man. Jackson will be guaranteed a secure cell with no way to escape. Free to rot the rest of his life away.” Chris’ stare on Jackson was ice cold.

Stiles’ shifted on his feet, gaze spreading to look at the faces of Scott, his dad, and then Derek. Derek’s returned gaze was full of understanding and comfort, loosening the vice around Stiles’ lungs enough for him to take in another shaky breath.

“Or… we kill him. Make sure that he never hurts another person, supernatural or not, again.” Chris stated simply.

After a few moments of restless shifting, Stiles took a few hesitant steps towards Jackson. The other four stood as still as night. The shaky boy continued his steps until he was only a few feet from his attacker. Jackson had calmed significantly since first seeing Stiles. Now he hung limply from the fence, staring up at Stiles with an eerie smirk. The silence in the room didn’t last long.

“Hello… Stiles.” The name dripped off his tongue like poison. The others could hear the pounding of the teen’s heart reverberating in the still air. “Come back for round two?” Jackson let a sickening laugh out of his mouth. Derek started towards the werewolf, intent on beating him to a bloody pulp. A pale mole-dotted arm pushed back against his chest before he could reach the chained boy. He flickered his red eyes to Stiles who gave a small head shake. Derek backed off but stood just behind Stiles, his presence grounding the unsteady teen in front of him.

“Listen here, you sick fuck.” Stiles stood his ground, locking eyes with the monster. “You have no power over me, not now, not ever. I have the upper hand now. There’s nothing stopping me from putting a bullet right through your skull.” He was practically snarling.

Jackson just raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Oh really? You think you won’t dream about me? About my hands on your hips, holding you down? You have no power over me and you never will. You’re the weakest link of this pack, slowing everyone down all the time. I’m surprised anyone even came for you, especially after you killed your best friend’s girlf-” He got cut off with a sharp blow to the face. Derek gripped the collar of his shirt, lip raised in a snarl.

Scott watched Stiles flinch at the comment. A deep sense of understanding ripped through Scott at the realization that his best friend was suffering from more guilt than he ever knew. He suddenly felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner.

“Derek, let him go.” Stiles spoke softly.

Derek turned to look at him and dropped Jackson like a piece of garbage, returning to Stiles’ side in an instant. Derek could sense the distress coming off the boy, wanting more than anything to be able to take it away. The normally bright honey-brown eyes were dull and guarded. Derek placed a steadying hand on his tense shoulder. The dull brown eyes swiveled to hold his gaze and Derek’s stomach clenched with the need to pull the boy into his arms. To protect him from the terrors of Beacon Hills.

“Ohhh,” Jackson paused to chuckle “you’re Derek’s bitch now, huh?” Jackson quipped, nodding his head at Derek and Stiles. Stiles gasped and Derek flashed his eyes, dropping his hand back to his side. Derek bit his tongue to allow Stiles to speak his mind.

“Shut the fuck up.” Stiles growled in response.

“Weak spot? Who knew? Nogitsune and a failure of an alpha? The perfect couple.”

Stiles masked his features, hiding the hurt. Of course Derek wouldn’t want to be with him. He was a murderer, he was evil. He had to face Jackson.

“Lock him up. He doesn’t deserve the easy way out. I’m not the monster that he is. I’m not going to kill him. Nobody else should die under my hands.” Stiles held his gaze with Jackson, not daring to back down or duck his head in submission.

Derek placed his hand back on Stiles’ shoulders, squeezing in support.

“Have fun rotting away.” Stiles remarked before turning his back. As Jackson snarled insults and lude comments about Stiles’ body, the teen avoided the gazes from his friends and solemnly marched out of the dreadful building.

Derek shared a glance with Scott and the sheriff before following behind Stiles. When the fresh breeze hit his face, Derek could see Stiles at the tree line. His shoulders were shaking as the wind whistled through the boughs surrounding him. Derek’s footfalls sounded across the broken pavement making Stiles turn his head.

Derek brought himself a few steps forward as Stiles watched him from the corner of his eye. Then he was standing right next to Stiles, both of them facing the surrounding forest but eyes locked on one another.

Within seconds, Stiles’ face crumpled and a dry sob wracked his frame. Derek clenched his jaw tightly and pulled Stiles to him without a second thought. The younger boy gripped Derek’s shirt tightly, fingers curling in the soft fabric to rid himself of his tremors. Strong callused hands ran up Stiles’ back. One cupped the nape of his neck as he buried his face into Derek’s neck. Derek smelled like comfort and safety; pine trees, vanilla, and his delightfully spicy aftershave. The other hand ran soothing circles across his trembling back. 

Heart wrenching sobs filled the crisp air surrounding them. Neither noticed the other men file out of the rusty doors, solely focused on one another. The two were enraptured in the other’s presence.

“I’m so sorry Stiles.” Derek whispered against his cold ear, the soft hairs tickling his lips.

Stiles unclasped the fabric of the gray henley to fully wrap his arms around Derek’s muscular frame. His slender fingers spread wide across the expanse of smooth leather. His cries had dwindled down to soft sniffles but Derek didn’t remove the comforting hands on the teen’s back. In fact, his fingers traveled into the soft brown hair above Stiles’ nape.

“He can’t hurt you anymore.” Derek spoke softly, lips brushing the soft skin of the teen’s forehead. Stiles pulled away, eyes red-rimmed and glassy. “I’m proud of you.” Derek’s voice was breathy.

Stiles attempted to pull a small smile but just ended up screwing his lips to the side in more of a grimace. He pulled Derek in for another hug, nuzzling close and just breathing deeply for a few moments. Derek relished in having Stiles close and safe, being able to breathe him in. They separated once again and turned to look at Scott and the Sheriff who were standing at the patrol car. They were speaking quietly to each other, sparing glances at Derek and Stiles.

“Thank you.” Stiles said with distinct sincerity.

“You don’t need to thank me.” Derek replied instantly.

Derek held his hand out for Stiles to take. Stiles easily slipped his cold hands into Derek’s, squeezing lightly. They walked hand in hand over to the patrol car. The sheriff eyed them perceptively but sent Derek a grateful smile.

With promises of a pack movie night soon and lingering stares, they separated to their respective vehicles to head home after such an emotionally draining 48 hours. It took all of his willpower for Derek to part with Stiles, wanting nothing more than to curl around the boy at the loft where he could protect him.


	4. Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pack movie night and an admittance of feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter of this small story. I originally only planned on having one chapter but I'm glad some of you encouraged me to keep going! I hope I did this ending justice. Enjoy!

Distant sounds filtered in and out of Stiles’ subconscious as he writhed in his sheets, tangling himself in soft fabric. Teeth snapped near his neck and he reared back whimpering, feeling helpless. He was trapped, no way to fight back, hands tied by some insurmountable force.

_“-iles! -ake up.”_

A clawed hand traced his spine, commanding shivers in its wake.

_“Stiles…”_

Hot breath against his mouth. His stomach was churning.

_“C’mon wake up!”_

He could hear a voice, far off, blocked by a wall of nebulous mist. It felt warm and safe. He knew he had to get to it. He had to use all of his strength so that Jackson wouldn’t kill him. He couldn’t leave his father behind, or his friends. He couldn’t leave Derek. Yellow eyes flashed in his peripheral vision and Stiles kicked and thrashed in his sleep.

“I’m here Stiles, you just need to wake up.” Derek shook Stiles and spoke into his ear, holding the boy down to stop his erratic movements.

Stiles jolted awake with a gasp, arms flailing at the pressure over them. His pupils struggled to focus on the dark form leaning over him. Labored breaths rasped out of his lungs, chest rising and falling rapidly. Tears had gathered in his honey-brown eyes, clumping his lashes and blurring his vision. The dark form moved closer and Stiles flinched. It took him a moment to realize the soft murmuring noises were coming from whoever was above him.

“Stiles. Shhh. It’s just me. Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you. C’mere.”

Derek. Oh thank fuck.

A shaky exhale left Stiles’ lips before he was deflating against the bed. Derek slid down next to him to wrap strong arms around Stiles’ lithe frame. Shuddering breaths filled the dark room. Stiles couldn’t help but grip Derek hard and nuzzle into the soft skin of his neck. For a few minutes it was just shared breaths and tangled limbs. Comfort and warmth filled both of their chests.

Stiles focused on the silky feel of Derek’s shirt beneath his shaky fingers. His hands traveled up and over the shirt, skin reaching skin. They skated the soft skin on his neck, over the man’s thudding pulse. Gaining purchase in the scratchy stubble lining his sharp jaw. The touch grounded Stiles, pulling him back to reality.

“Hey…” the teen rasped.

“Hey…” Derek’s normally harsh eyes were soft, fond. Derek’s hand came up to cover Stiles’ on his jaw. Their eyes were locked together, unmoving, steady.

“Why did you come?”

“I needed to see you again, know that you’re okay. When I got here, I heard your heart rate and knew something was wrong. I climbed in through your window. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Derek was tentative.  

“Thank you.” Stiles spoke without the tiniest blip in his heart beat.

Derek watched him for a few moments until the teen yawned, eyes unfocused. Right, concussion. Sleep.

“I’ll let you sleep. You need it Stiles.” Derek made a move to unwrap himself but Stiles’ hand gripped his neck, keeping him on the bed.

“Don’t go.” Stiles looked desperate, eyes pleading.

Derek relaxed again, easing into the soft mattress. Stiles relaxed against him, one leg swung over Derek’s hip. Neither of them was thinking past the sense of comfort the touching brought. Both of them needed reassurance that the other was really there. They fell asleep to the others’ soft breathing and steady heartbeat, legs tangled together, holding onto their sense of safety.

Stiles woke to a cold bed. There was no blame to put on Derek because there would have been no surviving the wrath of the sheriff if he had found the two of them in bed together. He may have approved of Derek but would certainly not approve of him fooling around with his teenage son.

Stiles’ phone went off with a text. 

_From Sourwolf: Good luck at school this week, pack movie night this weekend._

His soft smile quickly fell from his face with a groan as we realized that he had to go back to school.

 

* * *

 

With his favorite red hoody, Stiles faced the front of the school with Scott at his side.

“C’mon buddy. You can do it.” Scott nudged him in the arm to spur him into action. Stiles would much prefer to be huddled in his bed watching _Star Wars: A New Hope_ on his laptop. Unfortunately, for the teenage population, high school was mandatory. Dragging his feet, Stiles walked up the steps and into the stale sweaty air of Beacon Hills High School.

Flanked by the pack, his pack, Stiles made it through the school day with minimal panic. Lacrosse practice was a current no-no. Stiles didn’t know when he would ever set foot back into the locker room. One look sent him into a mini panic attack and he had to be steered away by Lydia who helped him breathe again.

The week went by slowly. Stiles made it through school with the help of his friends. He spent most of his time outside of school sleeping to recover. The physical wounds left by Jackson were healing though they left shiny pink scars across his hips which made him frown when he caught them in the mirror. Nightmares still plagued him but most nights he woke to Derek climbing through his window.

Their cuddle sessions did wonders to set Stiles at ease again. They hadn’t really spoken about them, it had been this mutual feeling between them. Stiles still wondered what it was he and Derek had together. Were they just friends or something more? He certainly didn’t have midnight cuddle sessions with Scott.

Friday night couldn’t come soon enough. When it did, the pack gathered at the loft with every delectable kind of junk food. Stiles bought himself a pint of Phish Food ice cream that he deemed untouchable by any supernatural being, ha that’ll teach the beasts. The buttery smell of popcorn permeated the room as Isaac and Scott worked to set up the movie. They had all agreed to let Stiles choose which delighted the teen. Derek couldn’t help but smile fondly as the boy’s eyes had crinkled with a smile.

The beginning track to _Star Wars_ sounded throughout the loft and Stiles jumped around with glee making Derek chuckle to himself as he watched from the kitchen. Pillows were thrown onto the floor and all of Derek’s blankets were broken out for this special occasion.

Stiles trailed into the kitchen with a soft smile that made Derek fill with warmth. He tossed a piece of popcorn into the air to catch in his mouth. Instead, it hit Stiles right on the tip of his nose. Derek wanted to kiss him so badly. He must have been staring at his lips because Stiles was giving him a confused look.

Derek shook his head slightly. Composing himself, he grabbed a piece of popcorn and threw it at Stiles’ forehead. Stiles squawked and jumped on him. Derek walked into the living room with a big bowl of popcorn in his hands and a lanky teenager on his back who had one hand wrapped around his broad chest and the other sunk deep into the bowl. It was a sight to behold. The most surprising part was the absence of Derek’s trademark scowl. His face was alight with amusement, face flushed pink. His white bunny teeth were on full display. Stiles had his legs wrapped around Derek’s waist, ankles hooked together. The room was full of happiness.

Derek set the popcorn down gently before hauling Stiles off his back and onto the couch. Stiles flailed and laughed. Derek plopped down next to him, laying his feet up on the table to Lydia’s dismay. He wrapped an arm snugly around Stiles who lay his head on Derek’s shoulder. Malia wiggled her eyebrows at the two of them, catching Derek’s eyes. Derek definitely ignored her.

The group watched the movie with occasional comments from Stiles about how a certain scene was filmed or that a specific alien was actually speaking the native language of Peru. Stiles rattled off a few Quechuan words and Derek could only stare fondly at the spastic teen blabbering next to him. Scott had to throw a pillow at him to shut him up.

Soft lambent light from the movie spilled over the mound of blankets, pillows, and teenagers. Easy laughter and murmuring hung in the air. Steady heartbeats resonated soundly. The atmosphere was convivial and the normally sangfroid teen next to him could finally let go, unravel. Derek had never felt more at home than he did right there with his arm around Stiles and his eyes gazing over his pack.

As the movie wound down to an end, eyelids were at half-mast and the stars were twinkling past the blinds on the windows. Stiles yawned into Derek’s shirt as the closing credits rolled. The teens were hesitant to move, not wanting to break the spell. Derek stretched and groaned before unlatching Stiles from his side and standing. The others followed suit to help tidy up.

Easy goodbyes were said as they left soon after. Stiles stood uncertainly in the kitchen as the last person had just left. Derek caught his eyes, quirking a brow.

“How was school this week?” Derek inquired.

“Fine… I don’t think I’ll ever be able to step foot back in that room.” Stiles’ eyes were cast towards the moon shining outside.

“Baby steps. Going back to school at all is a big accomplishment. You should be proud.” Derek spoke earnestly. Stiles shrugged and ducked his head. As they spoke, the two had somehow gravitated closer together. Derek stood a mere foot in front of Stiles who had his back resting against the counter behind him.

“I… I wanted to thank you Derek… for just being there for me this week. You didn’t have to-”

“I wanted to.” Derek stopped him short, stepping slightly closer. Any closer and their noses would be touching. Derek’s hazel eyes were alight with something, Stiles couldn’t tell what. His own honey-brown orbs were bright in the dim kitchen lights. “I care about you.” Derek whispered, breath fanning across Stiles’ parted lips.

The sound of Stiles’ rising heart rate was cacophonous in both of their ears. All it would take for their lips to be touching was a simple tilt of heads.

“This week really showed me how much I care. How much it would destroy me if you weren’t around to annoy me anymore.” Derek confided his feelings aloud.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Stiles looked absolutely dumbfounded.

“Stiles… I want to always be there for you. I want to take you on dates and watch movies with you. Will you… be my boyfriend?” Stiles had never seen Derek so open and vulnerable.

Stiles closed the distance and crushed his lips against Derek’s, breathing in deeply through his nose. The scent of Derek so close both calmed and excited him. Their eyes fluttered shut as their lips pressed hungrily together. Stiles’ hands held Derek’s face so gently. Derek nipped slightly at his bottom lip before soothing it with a swipe of his tongue. The feeling was delightfully sinful. Stiles groaned into the kiss. They separated, breathing heavy in the quiet hum of the kitchen.

“Yes, god yes.” Stiles’ voice was breathy. He was absolutely scintillating.

Derek immediately pressed his lips against Stiles’ again, relishing in the soft plushness of them. Stiles focused on the wet heat and the bruising scratch of stubble against him, surely leaving marks.

Their lips parted, red and swollen. Derek dropped his forehead to rest against Stiles’ and they both breathed each other in. Disbelieving laughter bubbled out of Derek’s throat at being able to call Stiles his boyfriend now. There had always been something between them but he never let it go any further. He couldn’t help himself and pressed light kisses to Stiles’ face before grinning sheepishly. Stiles couldn’t be happier.

Stiles left the loft with one last glance to the grinning sourwolf before driving home in his beat-up jeep, humming the Star Wars theme like an idiot. An idiot with a werewolf boyfriend.

Stiles wasn’t stupid. He knew that he had a lot of issues to work out but he wouldn’t let them stop him from living, from being happy. He had his pack and they were worth fighting for. He felt the strongest when he was surrounded by his friends. He knew they had his back and they knew he had theirs. Stiles would find support in them and he would be okay. He had already survived too many near death experiences to count, this wouldn’t stop him. Stiles had a reputation to hold. He was a bad ass idiot with a witty comeback for any situation. And his spirit was stronger than an iron horse. He would not break. 


End file.
